Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust Could Never Be Enough
by Tinkerlily
Summary: Peter Pan and Tinkerbell were inseparable...that is until the Darlings showed up. Peter fell in love with Wendy and flew away to be with her on the Mainland. Tink is left heartbroken. It's five years until an unexpected return changes everything
1. Chapter 1

**I have a minor obsession with the idea of Peter Pan and the Tinkerbell (or Tinker Bell) character. This story is an outflow of that, I guess. But that being said, I'm not an expert. There's a lot I don't know. The facts in this story are mostly things I made up with a few exceptions.**

**I do not own any of the characters or events unless made them up :) Basically, if you recognize it, it's probably not mine.**

I plopped down onto a tree branch with a sigh. Gazing at the horizon this morning had been as depressing as always. He hadn't come home. I had to face it: he wasn't going to come home. Ever.

"What's the matter, Tink?" came Slightly's voice from the bottom of the tree.

I didn't say anything, wishing he'd just go away. Ever since Peter had left, I had made it quite clear I wanted very little to do with the Lost Boys, but they couldn't seem to take a hint.

"Come on," he pleaded. "You can tell me. I promise I won't tell any of the other Boys."

I shook my head and crossed my arms, turning to watch the Boys in the middle of an extremely engaging food fight. I was surprised Slightly wasn't joining in the fun.

Slightly, being the knuckleheaded little orphan that he was, had made up his mind. He wasn't going to leave me alone until he learned what he wanted to know. "Are ya hungry? We've got plenty of food."

I shook my head.

"Didya hurt yourself?"

I shook my head again.

He paused and scratched his head as if searching for what else could possibly be bothering me so much. "Oh!" he finally exclaimed. "You miss Peter, don't you?"

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and the anger welling up inside me. How dare he make that accusation? "No!" I yelled defensively. It came out like a bell chime as usual. "Why would I miss that stupid, good-for-nothing Peter Pan? He abandoned us! I don't know about you, but _I'm_ not about to start missing a traitor!"

With that I took off. I flew upwards first, to get out of reach just in case one of the Lost Boys decided to try to stop me. Then I flew on towards Mermaid Lagoon with tears in my eyes. As I settled down on a rock out of sight of the mermaids, I began to cry freely.

Of course I missed Peter. How could I not? Sure he was impulsive and reckless and sometimes insensitive. But he was _my_ Peter. We'd always done everything together. That is until that no-good, rotten, goody-two-shoes Wendy showed up. She'd stolen him away faster than you can say sabotage. I had tried to talk to Peter, but she already had him under her spell.

And when Wendy decided she needed to go home, Peter sadly escorted her—with my help, mind you. There's no way she could've gotten home without _my_ pixie dust. But I was happy to help. She would finally be gone, out of my hair. But things didn't go as well as I had hoped they would.

When we returned, Peter wasn't the same. He was depressed. He couldn't stop talking about all of the "good times" that "we" supposedly had with Wendy. Then one day Peter just vanished, disappeared. He left a note, sure, but that note was like a sword that pierced through my chest. He had written that he realized he loved Wendy. He'd said he had to be with her and if she didn't want to stay in Neverland, then he would just have to go to her on the Mainland. He said he would just have to deal with growing up. He didn't care as long as he had Wendy.

After all those years, after everything we'd been through, he left me with only a note as a goodbye. And the note wasn't even solely for me. He'd written it to "The Boys & Tink". I was crushed that he didn't care about me at all. And I had thought he loved me.

As I sat there sobbing over events of the past, I thought about when Peter and I first met. Before the Lost Boys. Before Captain Hook. No one knew the story. We'd always kept it our little secret.

*flashback*

Despite the fact that I'd been there for six seasons, I was still considered a newbie at Pixie Hollow. I was a curious newbie who was eager to learn all that I could from fairies of all different talents. But I was still a newbie. And as a tinker fairy, I was given the extreme privilege of not being able to go to the Mainland. Only I didn't see it as a privilege. In fact, no one did. They just said that for my sake.

Every so often fairies from all different talents (except tinkers) would pack their little bags, stock up on extra pixie dust, and flit away across the sea to the place where humans lived, the place where the truly exiting things happened. And I would be stuck at Home Tree. My job? Fixing things that _other_ fairies would need for the Mainland.

It wasn't that I didn't like my job—fixing things was my favorite thing to do aside from inventing them—but I didn't like thinking that I was missing out on all the fun. My fears were only elevated when the fairies would return with their tales of adventure and thrill. And when they asked me what I had been doing since they left, the answer was simple and surprisingly unappealing: tinkering.

Well, it was one of those days when I was feeling the weight of the fact that I would be stuck at Pixie Hollow forever. We had all gathered together to see another group of fairies off to the Mainland. Luckily, this time, my friend Terence had stayed. He'd gone with the last two circuits which had made me feel even worse. He was the only one I could truly talk to.

"Terence?" I asked, kicking at a pebble. It rolled and bounced along before plopping into a pond.

"Yes?"

I frowned. "We need to get out of here." When he didn't respond, I continued. "Out of this little…jail of a tree. There's so much world out there. I don't want to waste my life never seeing any of it. I want to explore!"

Terence sighed, his expression sympathetic. This wasn't the first time we'd had this conversation. "Tinkerbell, there's a reason Queen Clarion has us stay in Pixie Hollow. Yes, there's a big world out there, but—"

"I know, I know," I interrupted, "it's not safe for fairies. There are too many big fairy-eating animals and unknowns that can get us all killed, and blah, blah, blah." I shook my head. "But I don't care about all that stuff. Everyone else gets to go to the Mainland, and I can't even wander around _here_ for a little while? What sense does that make?"

"It doesn't have to make sense," Terence said a bit condescendingly. "Rules are rules."

"Just because they're there doesn't mean I have to follow them," I mumbled to the ground.

Terence chuckled. "That's kind of the point of rules, Tinkerbell."

I stood up and brushed the dirt from my legs. "Well?" I asked.

Terence raised an eyebrow.

"Are you coming or not?" I finally asked. "I'm gonna go look around. Are you in?"

"I really don't think this is a good idea."

"I really didn't ask if you did," I said, feeling a little bad about how it came out a little more sharply than I intended. I sighed. "I just can't stay cooped up here for my whole life. I need some adventure."

Terence just stared at me for a long moment. "Fine," he finally said. "I won't try to stop you, because I know I won't be able to. But I've got to get back to work." He turned to leave, but stopped. "And, Tinkerbell? Try not to get yourself hurt, okay?"

I nodded. "I'll do my best."

As soon as Terence turned to leave, I was off. I took to the air and flew straight out of that mundane little excuse of a life and into the wide open world full of surprises. And I didn't even look back.

The time I spent exploring seemed amazing at the time. Flying around the different pastures and forests, I felt free and spontaneous. But it was nothing compared to when I stumbled across the beaten up boat, stuck on the shore like a sad beached whale. It was riveting, the old stained wood, the bent and bruised structure. The tattered and torn flag, as discolored and dirty as it was, billowed victoriously in the gentle breeze, the jolly roger smiling at nothing in particular.

"Woah!" I breathed, gazing at the picturesque sight. For a moment I hesitated. For a second, I held back. Was that…_fear_…I detected? No, of course not. It was reverence—at least that was what I told myself. And I suppose it was true in a way. The ship just lying there had an air of romance about it, and I worried that going in to explore would ruin the mystique this scene held.

However, the reverence only lasted so long. Curiosity took over and I circled the boat until I found a hole of considerable size and went through it. I emerged into the sand-filled belly of the boat. Only, it wasn't the entire under chamber. There were walls enclosing this little room that contained only a toppled writing desk half buried in the golden sand.

I headed out the door, further into the ship, dodging misplaced poles that should've provided structure for the boat and dusty maroon curtains that hung draped around the ship. It was then that I heard the sound.

_What was that?_ I thought to myself. It was muted and muffled, but sounded like a grunt. But as soon as I registered it, it was gone. Being the reckless, not-always-careful fairy that I was, I darted through the corridor trying to locate the sound of the noise. There it was again! Only this time it was a little louder. I turned a corner and that was the first time I ever saw him.

There, tugging at something that appeared to be stuck beneath a sheet of sand as well as a wooden plank or two was a sandy haired boy no more than seven. His sun darkened body was clad in a tunic of sorts made of leaves and other vegetation. It was surprisingly impressive, almost something of fairy standard, and I wondered how he had made it. Watching him yanking and pulling at that handle sticking out of the ground, I shook my head in amazement. I'd never seen a human before. I'd only heard of them in stories told by fairies who had gone to the Mainland.

In my stunned state, I accidentally bumped into a pole, sending it crashing to the floor. The little boy looked up, his dark green eyes round with surprise. When his gaze settled on me, his expression changed to one of curiosity.

"Well, who are you?" he asked, removing his hands from the handle and standing to brush the sand off of his thighs. "_What _are you?"

He took a step toward me reaching a finger out as if to touch me.

"I'm Tinkerbell," I said, as fascinated with him as he apparently was with me.

The young boy jumped back. "What's that? You sound like a bell when you talk."

"Well, I'm a tinker fairy. You must be a human. What's your name?"

"I'm Peter Pan!" he said extending a hand that, though I was sure was much smaller than that of an adult, was still a lot bigger than mine.

I smiled. "Pleased to meet you, Peter," I said, shaking the tip of his finger.

He nodded and glanced back down at whatever it was he was trying to remove.

"What is that?" I asked, full of curiosity. "You sure seem to want it enough."

Peter looked left and right as if to make sure no one was spying on us. "It's a pirate's treasure chest," he whispered with a twinkle in his eye. "I tried to pull it out, but it's stuck right well."

With that he bent down and started pulling at the worn leather handle again. "See?" he asked, looking up.

"Well, you met the right fairy. Tinkering's what I do. Let me see if I can figure out how to free this thing."

I furrowed my brow and landed on the exposed part of the chest. I paced the length of the board that covered half of the chest. It ended wedged under a plush velvet chair.

"You'll have to move this," I told the boy. "The wooden plank is a floor board. It's attached over there." I pointed to the other end of the room. "In order to lift it, you'll have to push the chair off of this end."

Peter stood and scurried to the chair. He pushed hard, but the chair barely budged a quarter inch. The little boy just wasn't strong enough. After a few long minutes of pushing, he backed away to the other side of the room.

"Maybe I can help," I began. I didn't have a chance to finish, though.

That crazy Peter Pan ran at full speed across the room and jumped on the chair, sending it sliding the few inches necessary to remove the board from beneath it. All at once, the board sprung up and slammed into the ceiling sending a puff of smoke cascading downward.

My mouth was frozen in the shape of an "o". But when I looked at Peter, he was starting to chuckle. Not too long after, it turned into a full blown laughing fit, him doubled over holding his stomach, practically rolling on the floor. At that moment, I started laughing too. It was quite comical, I had to admit.

I don't know how long the laughing lasted, but it eventually died down. And when it did, Peter returned to the now unobstructed treasure chest. His face was aglow with expectation, and he reached down to tug on the chest. It didn't budge. The vessel along with the treasure was just too heavy for the little boy.

There was a loud slam from the opposite side of the ship, and in walked a tall, but somewhat lanky man whose long jet black hair and mustache were laden with grains of sand. The moment his gaze settled on the two of us, his face turned red.

"Smee!" he shouted. "Get in here, immediately!"

Peter gasped and started tugging on the still too heavy chest as this man—I assumed he was the pirate—trudged toward us.

"It's not gonna work, Peter," I said. "It's too heavy for you. You should run."

But Peter was a determined and stubborn little boy, who didn't heed my advice. As the man lunged toward Peter, my heartbeat leaped.

"Peter, watch out!"

But Peter was perhaps more clever than I would have guessed. He leaped onto the pirate's head and flipped off before kicking him in the back. It was a smooth move, but I knew it wouldn't be able to stand against the sword the man was now wielding.

I bit my lip as the fight went on, unsure of what to do. Then a fat old man, Smee, I guessed, hobbled onto the scene.

"Whaddaya need me to do, cap'n?" the man asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that this was an intense moment.

The captain let out a sigh. "Help me get the boy, Smee!"

I jumped up and down, trying to think of something, anything, I could do. Then it hit me.

"Peter!" I shouted. "Get on the trunk."

As Peter backed slowly onto the trunk, while still trying to fight off the captain, I dumped as much fairy dust onto the trunk as I could. Slowly but surely the trunk began to rise. Peter looked at me in confusion for a split second, but then turned his attention back to the captain, sending one final kick into his stomach. The captain stumbled backward, tripping over a chair and landed in a bucket.

"Smee! Don't let them get away!" he shouted.

But Smee just stood there looking between us and the captain, as I put all my energy into tugging the now thankfully much lighter trunk out of the ship. Soon enough, we were out of the ship and sailing toward the trees. I knew I couldn't bring Peter to Pixie Hollow—that would be suicide considering I was even technically allowed to leave in the first place—but I had to get him safely away from those pirates, even if they were a little less than sharp. I felt almost responsible for this human now.

"Wh-What happened back there?" Peter asked, chuckling. He shook his head. "And how is this _floating_?"

"Pirates," I answered. "And pixie dust."

He smiled. "Did you see me fight off that pirate?" He sounded proud of himself.

I nodded. "I certainly did." _I also saw you almost get stabbed by that pirate's sword_, I added to myself.

"Say," Peter said, tapping the trunk as I pulled it further through the trees, "whatcha think is in here anyway?"

I shook my head. "That's a good question," I said, tugging it ever further from Pixie Hollow. "But whatever it is sure is heavy. All that pixie dust and it's already descending."

I struggled to steer the ever increasingly heavy trunk safely to the ground. It hovered a foot above the ground, then abruptly thumped to the ground. Peter laughed as he was bumped off of the trunk and onto the ground.

"I like you, Tinkerbell," Peter said with a smile as he stood up.

I smiled and nodded. "I like you too."

There were a few moments of silence before Peter spoke. "So should we see what's inside?" he asked, motioning to the treasure chest. "What do you say, Tink?"

That was the first time Peter called me Tink. It was the first time anyone called me Tink. I loved it.

"Yeah. Let's open it."

With a smile, Peter grabbed a rock and slammed it against the chest's lock. It burst open. Peter lifted the lid with more than a little effort. In one half of the trunk, there were jewels and bars of gold. The other half was filled with sparkling golden power.

I tilted my head to the side as Peter stared amazed at the contents of the trunk. "That's weird," I said mostly to myself. "It's filled with pixie dust."

**Please review if you like it. It would make me extremely happy :D  
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	2. Chapter 1 and a half

*****This is actually chapter 1.5 like 1 and a half. Not chapter 15. This just didn't accept the period. I changed the title so it should be all good now. Sorry for any confusion***  
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**It's been a long time. I didn't know anyone would actually be interested in this. Anyway, this one's really short and is sort of a flashback even though no one's flashing back. It doesn't really make any sense, but this is important information in the story, so here it is. Not sure how often I'll put in these little Wendy snippets, but I sort of like this one.**

**Once again, I do not own most of the ideas written... Definitely not the characters. Or the setting, really. Or some of the events... But I own the dialog! That counts for something, right? :)**

**Wendy's POV**

"I'll get you, Captain Hook!" A boy's voice exclaimed.

I paused and pressed my ear against the cold wooden door. Jumping. Thuds.

"You can't get away this time!"

"Smee, help! It's that blasted Peter Pan!"

I flinched. Shaking my head, I entered the room that my brothers shared. I was too old to share a nursery with my brothers. "You boys are really too old for this," I said softly, taking a toy knife from Michael and unwrapping the string that held a fishing hook in place on John's wrist.

"Wendy, you sound like Father."

The statement from John made me flinch again. "I'm sorry," I said, "but it's time for bed."

"I'm not tired," Michael protested.

John nodded. "And I'm really not tired."

Ignoring their objections, I stowed their play things and pulled the covers back on each of their beds. John and Michael obediently climbed into their beds.

"What story are you going to tell us tonight?" Michael asked. "You will tell us a story won't you?"

His expression was so eager that I almost couldn't deny him. "Not tonight, Michael."

"Then will you sing us a song?" John asked.

"Which one?"

His answer came quickly like he had already given this much thought. "Your Mother and Mine."

"Well…" I took a deep breath and nodded. I hadn't sung this song in years. Not since that night… I took another deep breath and begun. "Your mother and mine. Your mother and mine. The helping ha-" I choked on the word as the tears threatened to spill over my eyelids. As I looked at the boys, I realized they were close to tears as well. I pretended the whole song thing never happened and walked over to Michael's bed.

"Why did we have to go?" he whined as I tucked him into bed.

"It was simply the only thing to do," I told him as I kissed his forehead. "We couldn't possibly have stayed. We would have missed Mother and Father far too much."

Despite the fact that a couple of years had passed since we had left Neverland, John and Michael still longed for it. And they were still more than a little bitter that I had so hastily removed them from such a wonderful place.

"But Wendy," John joined in the whining, though he was much too old for that now, "can't we go back?"

I shook my head sympathetically. "I'm sorry, boys. But we couldn't go even if we tried. Without Peter…" I almost choked on the name. It had been so long… "Without pixie dust, we can't get there," I finished.

After kissing John's forehead—he didn't object this time—I walked to the door and reached to turn off the light.

"Wendy?" Michael's voice came before I flipped the switch.

I sighed. "Yes, Michael?"

"Why did Peter forget about us?" he asked innocently as only a seven year old could.

The question took me by surprise. Like a punch to the stomach, it left me breathless, gasping for air. Maybe Peter had forgotten about us. He'd forgotten about me, left me alone. Deserted. Abandoned.

"I don't know, Michael," I said. "Maybe he didn't forget us at all. Maybe he's just caught up in a battle with the pirates or saving an Indian princess like Tiger Lily." But it was a feeble attempt. There was no conviction behind it. Even I didn't believe myself. "But it's time for bed," I said. "I'll see you both in the morning."

"Goodnight, Wendy," John said, rolling over as I turned off the light.

"'Night, Wendy," Michael echoed.

I attempted a smile as I backed out of the room. "Goodnight, boys."

As soon as the door clicked shut, I stomped to my room with tears welling up in my eyes—the same room Peter had entered a couple years before. Resisting the urge to slam the door, I stalked to the window, forced it shut, and locked it tightly before going and plopping down on my bed. I sighed as the tears started overflowing. Eventually, I stood up and unlocked the window before finally settling down to sleep.

I drifted into sleep, my mind filled with days spent painting faces and calming food fights. Nights spent singing to boys and talking with one in particular.

There was a large thump that woke me up. I rubbed my eyes as I sat up, noting that the wind must have blown open the windows. But the curtains weren't moving. Everything was eerily still.

I stood slowly. Walking over to the window, I gazed out, looking around. Then there was another thump behind me and a warm hand clamped over my mouth. The shriek that threatened to erupt from my mouth was lost in the fingers across my face, and I jumped, turning around to face my captor.

"Gosh, Wendy, calm down," he said with a chuckle, releasing me and sitting on my bed.

I furrowed my brow in disbelief. "Peter…Pan?"

He smiled that same smirk he used to. "The one and only," he answered kicking his feet up onto the bed.

"Peter Pan?" I said again. "Really? Peter Freaking Pan?"

With that he sat straight up. "Well, thanks for the warm welcome, Wen."

"Uh uh," I said, shaking my head as he stood and started to make his way to me. "Don't blame this on me. I had to come home and that was my choice. But you never once came to visit. You never once dropped by. Excuse me for feeling abandoned like you just—"

He didn't let me finish. He shook his head then pressed his lips to mine. A thimble. And it was the most beautiful one I'd ever shared. It was only then that I realized that Peter Pan was not the same 12 year old little boy he once was.

**Yeah, like I said, it's been a while. This is me getting back into the swing of things. Lately I've been busy working on a book I'm writing...one with characters and a setting that I _do_ own haha! So I'll try to keep this story thing going as much as I can, but I can't make any promises.**


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